


The List

by Vgwd



Series: Pets at Home [4]
Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 12:29:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vgwd/pseuds/Vgwd





	The List

Mr Snow has been away for a few days. He had business elsewhere on the continent and had to leave his pet behind. The trip was too arduous and delicate to risk having her go with him. He's been to check on a very important artefact kept safe in the repository. He was due back hours ago but there were complications with the single prop engined plane so he's finally home five hours late. And he's grumpy. He lets himself into his suite, which is locked as usual. And his pet is fretfully asleep on the bed. It must be hot because she has turned all of the fans in the room on and faced them towards the bed. She's grumbled before about the windows being painted shut but he's learnt from past mistakes. They are on the fifth floor. It's a long drop. Mr Snow doesn't notice the temperature so he has to take her word for it when it's immoderate. That is the problem with the British, they don't respond well to extremes. She doesn't wake when he deadbolts the door so he sits down in the chair to go through the post. For a dead man he has a lot of paperwork. In amongst the papers is another of her interminable lists. He finds them irritating so he had all of the pens and paper removed. Not all of them, it seems because she's written this one on the back of an old envelope. He reads it. 

"THINGS TO TELL MR SNOW WHEN HE GETS HOME"

She's underlined it so he knows it is important. She's depressingly literal with the titles of her lists. But the "Home" is a new development. As is the volunteering of information. His pet is a very well brought up creature. If she can't say anything good, she doesn't say anything at all. Unless he asks her a direct question, she refuses to comment on the other people she meets in the compound. 

The first entry doesn't surprise him. "Dr Tweedy". What has the odious little man done now? The doctor is not liked in the compound but he is useful. And skilled. His pet tries to hide her revulsion from the doctor. But Mr Snow can tell that she can't bear the man touching her. Which is funny, because she doesn't feel the same about Mr Snow. Not any more. Mr Snow glances at his pet. She had her jabs before he left and she doesn't have any visible injuries so he doesn't know why the doctor would have been near her. He'll have to ask her directly. 

"Wages" This is interesting. She likes the library and the offices. If she is not in the suite, she tends to be there. She has an inquisitive mind so perhaps she has come up with an idea. Preferably a better one than redecorating the suite in shades of pink and beige. 

"What happened to the bitey lady?" This one has been crossed out. Probably wise. She really doesn't want to know. 

"I need new underwear". Back to the prosaic. She doesn't have any clothes here. The ones she was wearing when she arrived have been thrown away. They were covered in blood and grime. She wears his old things mainly. His older shirts and trousers, cuffs and sleeves rolled up. Unless he specifically provides her with an item she just chooses from his wardrobe. It's not unappealing. She's thin now, delicate so his clothes dwarf her in a pleasing way. He'll arrange for a laptop to be brought up so that she can order what she wants. It'll be a nice treat for her. But she'll have to earn it. 

At the bottom is a list of names. He knows what they are. He's seen similar ones before. It's a list of her family and friends. The people she loves most. The people he threatened so that she would be obedient. These are the people that, when Mr Snow is in control, she wants protected. The people she wants to keep safe from the horrors. Mr Snow has had an idea. He had considered turning her. She's an asset to his little menagerie. He thought he'd have to turn her against her will. The others call it recruiting but it's not, it's a violation. A beautiful cruelty. Now Mr Snow wonders if he could make her want it. Make her choose it. A bargain. Her soul for - how many shall he let her save? How many will she ask for? How many will he grant? Mr Snow won't even need to spell it out. She's clever and cunning. She'll see what he's getting at. His little game could be most diverting. 

Thinking of diversions, Mr Snow scrumples the list up. He'll keep an eye on the Doctor, and ask for her idea about wages. 

She's still asleep. He hangs his jacket on a hanger and puts it on the wardrobe door then crosses the room to the bed. She still doesn't wake, even at the sound of his feet on the parquet floor.  
Mr Snow undresses quickly. He reaches into the cabinet for the blade. His pet stirs when he first drags it across her skin. Her eyes open then close again. She's developed the knack of sleeping through his game. He draws lines in her flesh with the razor then licks the blood away from her salty skin. At first he thought she was pretending, then he realised she actually was asleep. It was an unusual trick, he was quite impressed. She only woke when he actually penetrated her. He liked the little sigh she always gave. And Mr Snow has learnt that he can be generous. At first, he made her climax only to prove that there was no part of her that he didn't control but she's a natural. Mr Snow is good at sex, he's had centuries of practice but his pet has taken to it like a duck to water.  
That pleases him. He hadn't had a virgin in a long time - everyone seems to be at it these days. He'd seen her purity in her eyes, in her skin, in the classroom. He thought she'd be inept but no, she's a natural. She loses herself in the sensation. Her eyes glaze and he is able to feel her muscles tense under his own pressure. Mr Snow waits until he can feel her heart racing, he pushes them both to the limit and when they climax, he bites down. Her blood fills his mouth in a roar as he empties himself into her. It's a constant surprise that within minutes she can go from fast asleep to her every nerve screaming with adrenaline. And afterwards she's dopey with endorphins and blood loss. 

It's afterwards that she makes her mistake. She's completely awake now if a bit disorientated. And she hasn't left the suite or spoken to anyone for five days. It's because they're both sated and she's still coming down from the high that she asks him.  
"Can I get pregnant?"  
Mr Snow is surprised. "No my pet, the dead can't create life. You should know that". He's feeling quite avuncular so he says it as kindly as a monster can.  
"Why should I know that? until six months ago I thought vampires sparkled"  
Bloody Twilight, It really is a saga. Still, he supposes she is young.  
"Only our wit my dear"  
"Not even that." She chuckles at her own joke and makes the mistake. His pet leans over and kisses his shoulder. They both freeze. For different reasons. His pet is still because she forgot. she forgot that he is a dead thing. A thing that looks like a man but is actually a souless, heartless nightmare. She forgot that. And now she's frightened at what that means.  
Mr Snow is still because he knows that she forgot. She forgot that he owns her. She belongs to him. She is not now, and will never be an equal. he is not her boyfriend. He is the monster who controls her every action and thought. and he has allowed her far too much freedom. To reassert the natural order Mr Snow pins her down, digging his fingers into her flesh until he can feel her bones grinding under the pressure. He bites down again, tearing this time. Ripping into her throat until her blood gushes out. He can taste the adrenaline in the liquid. From fear now, not excitement. He drinks his fill, drinks far more than he normally does. Almost drains her.  
Just before she passes out, he calls Dr Tweedy and the man arrives with plasma expanders; bags of donor blood that they keep on the premises. Mr Snow cleans himself up in the bathroom as the medic works; stitching her throat back together as neatly as he can then attaching a drip and pumping new blood into her. When Mr Snow comes out, wiping his mouth on a towel he grunts at the doctor. "That'll scar" Dr Tweedy actually tuts at him. Vacuous little pervert, Mr Snow thinks. He looks at his pet. She'll need a wider collar when she's healed to cover the new scar. And perhaps he'll get her a treat. For being a brave girl.


End file.
